Pretty Face, Wicked Name
by a-girl-with-a-writers-mind
Summary: "See, the thing is, she's cuffed to a metal chair for a reason, and he's the person who put her there."


_**Author's Note: it's amazing how i'll not write for seven months but then i see a manga panel of my boi and then BAM inspiration**_  
 _ **also! this is a little excerpt / bit of the general plot idea from a huge fic i've been wanting to write since forever. i don't know if this will actually go into it (prolly not this is like three chapters in or smth) but yeah! please leave a review, and enjoy!**_

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Lucy studies his face speculatively, and decides that it's a nice one. A really nice one, if she's being honest. All sharp angles and rich colours, he definitely worthy of a modeling career. Maybe one of those Abercrombie models, who kinda just pose and stare into the camera intensely as whatever scrap of the actual merchandise flutters around them from a fake breeze. He's got the body for it, from what she's seen; nice broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and some really great back muscles she gets to see through his shirt whenever he isn't focused on watching her.

His hair is a little strange, though; why he would dye it a soft pink is past her, especially considering his profession.

As if sensing her attention, his dark green eyes flick towards her, narrowing slightly when she sends him a sweet smile. The mistrust is clear, and honestly, Lucy can't blame him- or hate it.

See, the thing is, she's cuffed to a metal chair for a reason, and he's the person who put her there.

If she's being totally honest, she's kinda glad she finally got caught, if only to change up the game a little. She's been toying with him for the past few weeks, and as fun as watching his frustration grow whenever she'd slip right out of his fingers is, playing cat and mouse is starting to bore her. Either way, it's not a big deal. She'll get away again, just like always.

It's kinda cute how much attention he's paying to her, all tense and ready to snap into action the minute she makes a move he doesn't like. Adorable, really. Maybe she'll play along a little longer.

She sighs, looking at the handcuff around her wrist; if she was going to stay, they should at least make it more difficult to escape, so their shock will be all the greater once she bounces outta here. Really, with all the effort they've gone into catching her, a simple handcuff to keep her in place is a little insulting. If a little piece of metal and some screws could hold her in place, then she would never have even gotten to meet her little puppy and his pack.

He really could look like a puppy, if he wasn't so frowny. He's got a the big eyes for it, and the sharp teeth too. She wonders what he'd look like smiling, but guesses she'll never know. She's done with them, so she'll avoid contact once she leaves. Maybe she and Juvia will move onto that cute little port town they passed on the train ride here; Magnolia's lost most of its earlier appeal, now with the entire town wary of the two little midnight thieves that arrived and terrorized. The reputation is fun, it always is, but as the saying goes, reputation precedes you- and if they got too well known, the big guys might get involved, not just the town cops like these ones. And if that happened... well, they wouldn't fare well.

She wonders where her partner is; she went out alone tonight, secretly hoping to get herself caught. She left Juvia to do whatever, giving her vague answers to where she's headed and when she'll be back. Late, she said. She glances at the clock; ten fifteen. Juvia shouldn't expect her back for hours, and by the time she does, Lucy'll be waltzing out of her with her pockets full of money and a satisfied grin on her lips, as her puppy and his gang howl uselessly after her.

She smiles at the thought, her gold eyes glittering with anticipation. Oh, she'll enjoy this.

The puppy catches her gaze, his eyes hard with suspicion. That's cute. If a simple smile's got him antsy, she can't wait until later. Her lips widen into a wicked smirk, and she waves at him prettily with the hand he cuffed to the chair not even ten minutes ago. His gaze narrows further, and she can see the muscles moving in his jaw as he clenches it, either from anger or hyperness or just plain suspicion. Either way, it highlights his amazing jawline.

Now that she thinks about it, they're in one of those horrible cop and robber stereotypes, except it's switched; she's supposed to be the sexy officer who seduces the big bad criminal into confessing, not the big bad puppy cop who gets his ass handed to him by the sexy, beautiful, smart, and badass lady thief. But hey, it's funny nonetheless. Juvia'll get a kick out of it once she tells her later.

Aren't they supposed to hook up in the end though? Lucy tilts her head, watching her puppy cop; she wouldn't mind, not at all, but she's gotta be out of her before they get a profile on her. Oh well. He looks like he'd be a good time, even if she's on a time stretch.

He turns around as she's admiring the way his pants cling to him, and stalks over, towering over her with his good six feet and whatever. She looks up at him, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. Intimidation never really works on her- Juvia says it's because she's a sassy little shit, but she'd like to think it's just her sheer badassery.

"Yes?" She asks mildly. He doesn't respond, just pulls a ring of keys out of one of his belt pockets and leans down to unlock the half of the handcuff attached to the chair. He grabs it immediately after the little click alerts the release, and Lucy snorts. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna run," she tell him, rolling her eyes. He stays silent, save for the sound of his teeth grinding together as his jaw tightens further, and she holds out her other wrist obligingly as he relocks the cuff onto it. Look at how good she's being- a little trust wouldn't hurt.

He pulls her to her feet, and leads her past desks and cubicles and other little town cops that fill up the station. Well, not really; more like steers her. He's behind her, close enough that his boot hits the back of her ankle annoyingly when they walk, and his grip on her arm and shoulder is vice like, almost as if he's afraid she'll slip right through his hands. She will, just not right now.

They turn down a long corridor, brightly light and the only sound coming from their little party's boots. She's stuck in the middle of a whole group of the blue suits, with two in front of her, two in the back, and her own personal bodyguard, of course. It kinda makes her feel good, knowing they're worried enough about her to sic five of 'em on her, without even knowing that they're all just useless space, no matter how big or buff.

Just as she's about to complain about the long walk, they stop in front of one of many doors lining the walls, and one of the officers unlocks it. They step aside as her captor leads her in, and she's gifted with the homely sight of two more metal chairs, and a cute little metal table as well. "Love the design, guys," she tells them. "Nice and cozy." She hears a muffled snort from behind her, and smiles sweetly at the cop responsible. He looks away quickly.

Someone pulls one of the chairs out for her, but doesn't respond when she thanks them. She purses her lips. "I see manners are half-assed here. No surprised," she mutters as she's seated and cuffed to the chair. The puppy officer sends her a look, and then she's alone, the door clicking shut softly behind them.

She waits patiently, then not so patiently, for someone to show up. There's no clock in the room, but the one in her head tells her she's been in here, unentertained, for a good six minutes now. She crosses her arms, and now it's six sixteen. Her boots make a soft sound as her taps the leg of the chair with her toe absently, bringing her to six thirty four. Her finger picks up a beat on her bicep, and then it's six fifty. She sighs at six fifty six, and the door bangs open at seven.

She glances up, and sees the pink haired officer from before. She raises an eyebrow. "You again?" She asks. "Isn't somebody else supposed to do this part?"

He locks the door behind him, and walks up to their little table, a file and a notepad tucked under his arm. "Normally, yeah," he says, dropping the papers into the table and pulling out his chair. "But you've been giving me a lot of trouble lately, so Erza let me handle this." He smiles at her as he drops into his seat, but there's nothing friendly in his eyes.

He riffles through the file for an unnecessarily long amount of time, considering how empty it is. Really, they've got nothing on her, only accounts of her crimes in Magnolia, so she doesn't see why he's trying to intimidate her.

"You gonna talk, puppy cop?"

The question startles him, and his eyes fly up to meet hers, squinting. He doesn't say anything, about the name that so visibly threw him off, or her flipping their roles. He finally stops his stupid farce and closes the file, though.

He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms- mirroring her. "Okay, let's talk."

She smiles. "Alright, finally." She leans forward. "Why did you dye your hair pink?" It's a genuine question, but she only asks because she knows it will throw him off.

She was correct. "What?"

She tilts her chin towards his messy mop of hair. "Why pink?"

His hand comes up almost absently, running his hand through the hair at the back of his head. "It's natural."

Lucy snorts. "Yeah, I'm sure."

He frowns at her, which only makes him look even more like a puppy. "It is!"

"Well, what kind of fucked up genetics made that happen?"

His expression softens into something kind of sad. "I... don't really know."

Even though he doesn't say it, she understands. She's lost her parents too- but she isn't going to baby him for it. "You know, you really shouldn't go around telling vicious criminals your sob story," she tells him mildly, but her eyes tell him something else. He starts to retort, but backs off when he sees the empathy in them.

"Anyways, this isn't about me," he says, trying to get back on track.

"Yeah, this is about me; stop trying to steal my spotlight-" she glances at his name tag- "Dragneel."

He gives her that look, the one where he can't tell is he's annoyed with her or confused, or a mix of both. "Okay, fine." He picks up the file again, but this time actually reads it. He sees something that makes him frown, and looks at her over the edge. There's a change in his eyes- something more serious. He lowers the file. "Why don't we start about who you are."

She knows he saw the empty fingerprint, the non matches, and smiles. "What, you don't already know?" She purrs.

"...No. Care to tell?"

She considers him for a moment, and leans back, arms as crossed as she can get them with the handcuff in the way. "Well, let's see. I'm a thief, but you already know that. I'd tell you my age, but what lady would. I like long walks on the beach, and I love spending rainy days insi-"

The cop cuts her off, annoyed. "That's not what I meant, and you know it," he growls. "Now tell me who you really are."  
Her eyes glitter as she looks at him, something dark and full of danger lingering in the gold. "Now, why would I do that?" She asks him softly. Her aura is different, now- serious. Dangerous.

His expression hardens, but she sees the edge of unsettlement in his eyes, hiding right behind his pretty green irises. "Can I at least have name?"

She waits for a heartbeat and a half, contemplating. "Heartfilia."

She watches him carefully as he frowns, trying to figure out why the name's familiar. He's heard it before, she knows; everyone who works in the enforcement has. It's whispered between the high members of society, and the lowlifes who work in crime. Everyone knows the Heartfilia case.

He sucks in a sharp breath, and his eyes blow wide. "No way," he breathes, looking at her with a million emotions flicking past in his eyes. She sees the fear, too, mixed in with the confusion and awe. "Lucy Heartfilia?" He whispers, staring at her.

She smiles a soft, wicked smile. "Correct."

The handcuff clicks.


End file.
